


There May Be Threads of Truth

by wickersnap



Series: dbh rarepairs week [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Red String of Fate, minor needling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickersnap/pseuds/wickersnap
Summary: Nines can see something, something Connor cannot. He can't imagine seeing the things everywhere he goes, attached to every person.He and Nines, though, think they know what they may be.





	There May Be Threads of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 4 of dbh rare pairs week, red string of fate/secret.  
It's a bit of both!  
This tiny thing was a joy to write, and I had the idea immediately on seeing the prompt!  
Hope you enjoy :)

Hank and Gavin are arguing again.

Connor maintains his connection to his terminal, flicking through files and pulling relevant information into a new document for later. This is a common occurrence, they do so at least once a day—he can ignore them. Maybe one day they’ll figure out that they only ever talk in circles. 

“How long did it take you to catch that guy? Three months?” Gavin snipes. “Bet it would have taken you twice as long without us.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the help,  _ jackass. _ ” 

Gavin folds his arms over his chest. “Oi, I wouldn’t’a done shit if Connor hadn’t asked so nicely.”

Hank snorts. “Just ’cause you got a crush on ’im don’t mean you gotta stick your nose into our business,” he replies.

Beside Connor, Nines sighs. Connor finally disconnects and sits back, rubbing his eyes. 

“How long do you think they’ll be?” He asks. Nines sits himself on the edge of his desk, gently sliding away a file before it falls. 

“God knows,” he mutters. “I’ve just about had it with them.” 

Connor hums, letting his eyes wander back to watch their bickering. 

“Are you  _ sure _ you can’t see them?” Nines asks.

“…Sorry?” 

“The red threads, the ones I told you about before.”

“Oh,” Connor frowns. “No, I…” He chews on his lip for a moment. “Do you think you could show me?” 

Nines looks to him, surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Oh, how odd. “Here,” he holds out his hand. Connor takes his wrist, and Nines sends over the video files. Connor nods and pulls back, opening the first file.

It starts with a view of Officer Chris Miller, sat as his desk, on a phone call. Around the little finger of his right hand wraps a thin, hair-breadth red thread, trailing down to the floor and away. He laughs at whatever his wife has said, and the thread glows. 

The video ends and Connor frowns some more. 

“You see these all the time?”

Nines nods. Connor pulls up the next. 

Past-Nines is standing in the waiting room. Talia, one of the ST300 receptionists that remained post-revolution, taps her fingers idly. Her thread trails down and over the counter of the reception desk. Suddenly it slides sideways as somebody rounds the corner—its other end has found its way around the finger of Officer Chen. They barely glance at each other as she passes, but once Tina’s back is turned Talia watches her leave, intently. Nines has also identified Tina’s increased heart rate and gentle blush.

Connor flips through several other files of people they know and people they don’t, until he comes to the last. 

Gavin and Hank, sat together in front of the observation glass. 

Despite appearing to lean as far away from each other as possible, the thread around each of their fingers, though faint, pulls tight when either moves. It hangs between them, a traitorous crimson giveaway.

Though focused on the interrogation, Gavin for a moment looks down, up to Hank, and then quickly away, chewing his lip. His leg starts bouncing.

“Will you stop that?” Hank snaps after a moment. 

Gavin grumbles but does so, immediately. The thread glows for maybe a fraction of a second.

Nines glances to Connor—and damnit if it isn’t still weird to see himself from another’s eyes—but he doesn’t make any indication of noticing anything. 

Of course not, he barely remembers this interaction happening at all.

Nines looks back to the window and the memory ends.

Connor of the present blinks, coming back to himself. Aside from his brother, nobody has noticed his brief span of inattention.

“Thank you… For showing me those. They were eye-opening, to say the least.”

Nines lifts an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.” 

“We didn’t… We don’t have any?”

“For the sake of both our dignities, I removed them from the data. Apologies, Connor.” He nods. It’s understandable, if disappointing. He has a thread of his own? “Any advance on what they may be?” Nines asks.

Connor turns back to Hank and Gavin. And then he really looks. 

Whenever either of them get in a particularly good jibe, think of something they’re proud of, they grin with near-palpable enjoyment. He tries to imagine that thin red string between them now, glowing and looping over the desk. It’s certainly a strange concept—not one he’s heard from other androids before, and supposedly Nines hasn’t, either. He wonders if humans can see it, but then dismisses the thought. If he hasn’t heard of it by now, it’s unlikely that it’s been seen before… So why Nines?

Now, however, is not really the time to be asking that question. Hank turns back to his terminal, and Gavin’s grin drops off. No, wait—it doesn’t leave completely. Now that Connor’s analysing them properly, he feels… Almost sympathetic for the Detective. His snide grin has morphed into something much softer, so much more tender, and only for the back of Hank’s head. Obviously, there’s something there that he doesn’t much want to address.

“I think you’re right, Nines,” Connor answers. “They seem to show particularly strong bonds between people. Romantic ones, probably. It’s…” It’s very difficult to articulate. 

Nines picks up for him. “They never seem to be wrong. They seem to mean something more than what any of their subjects know.”

“Agreed.”

As if only just now noticing that his partner has come to watch the show, Gavin jerks around to glare at them. 

“What are you two pricks muttering about, then?”

Hank, too, cranes his neck around the monitor to look questioningly at Connor.

Nines huffs and smiles. “Nothing, Detective.”

“…You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”

“I’ve made you a reference document of any information you may need for the case,” Connor interrupts. “It should be in your inboxes now.”

“Thanks, Con.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, asshole. Can’t wait for a whole ’nother case with the both a  _ you _ , of all people.” Gavin scowls, slides off of Hank’s desk, and trudges back to his own. It has been long enough for Connor to know that Gavin’s insults actually hold little of their previous aggravation. Nines nods to Connor, sharing with him a secretive smile, and follows him.

Connor goes to ask Hank about his finished paperwork, but stops. On his face, too, is a slightly less readable version of Gavin’s expression earlier.

_ Oh, _ he thinks to himself.  _ Nines is right. _

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://silverxsakura.tumblr.com/)


End file.
